Q W E R T Y U I O P 

A S D F G H J K L

 Z X C V B N M

I stare at my laptop screen day after day, the tips of my fingers permanently glued to the metallic and dusty ridge of each key on my keyboard. A chronological order already predetermined and yet our keyboards display something different. There is so much to say and yet I have no more words, the jumbled letters of an alphabet drilled into my memory blend together. My body has sunken into the brown and leathery sofa I despise, each vertebrate in my back rubbing roughly against each other as I attempt to reposition my body, the click of my keys mirror the cracks down my spine. Can I shift ↑ into a better position without feeling the full weight of this draining abyss? I cannot ctrl and I cannot pause the way that time moves so slow and the clock runs for its life. There is no backspace or del in life. And I cannot esc.